


Jealous of Me

by islandgirl_246



Series: Just You and Me [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Angst, Arguments, Friendship, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 05:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: “The fact of the matter is, Scott,” he said the name with no little bit of derision, “at the moment, Peter happens to be the one I’m fucking. And I happen to like it. Every. single. moment.of it. And, I will continue to love and enjoy it for as long as it continues and until one of us decides that it no longer works for us. For.us. Him and me, us,” he stressed“Well how about the fact that none of your friends have met him? And you’ve been seeing him for over a year, Stiles,  a year. This was going to be a fling, remember? It isn’t,” Scott shouted.And silence fell.





	Jealous of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Actually sat after work and started this one instead of studying as I should have been doing. Sigh. Thank you all for the support for this series so far. The kudos and comments are the shizzle.

Stiles was tired. So damn tired.

It’d been a hell of a week and he’d rather just veg for the next two days he had off from the set. Otherwise, he’d have been on a plane to Boston for a weekend of marathon sex. But, Peter was at a conference in Napa. _Blast it!_

Who the hell knew lawyers attended conferences? No, well, that wasn’t quite true. He knew it, intellectually. But when the handsome man had exhaled, from a rigorous round of phone sex and told him in the next breath that he might be in and out of contact for the weekend, Stiles’ mind had stalled a bit. And it wasn’t just because he was still trying to catch his breath and to not get semen all over his sheets.

It seemed Peter had been asked to present before a joint conference with the American Bar Association and Georgetown University, on Amalgamations, Mergers and New Producer Companies. Not that Stiles knew much about any aspect of the topic. It could have been quantum physics for all he knew. But Stiles knew the man was smart.

Hell, he’d known it even before they first met in the conference room on that first day and Stiles found himself immensely turned on by a pair of startling blue eyes. Once he’d found out who the guy was that had almost crushed his skull on the streets of Boston, he couldn’t contain his curiosity. He’d Googled the hell out of the name Peter Hale.

Turned out, the lawyer wasn’t just a lawyer. He was also a published author and really well-respected in his profession, though it seemed he had as many enemies as he did admirers. Once they got to know each other, a little – because hot, steamy, no-holes-barred sex didn’t leave a lot of time for pillow talk – he’d also found out that Peter lived to piss people off. _Surprise, surprise._ In fact, he wore it like a badge of honour. It was one of the things Stiles found incredibly hot about him from the very beginning.

So instead of spending his weekend off in Peter’s bed, mapping the man’s goatee, abs, and dick with his tongue, he was here, waiting for his best friend to show up. Scott had called a day ago to say he would be in Los Angeles for the weekend. Stiles was a little suspicious, but he wouldn’t know what prompted this visit until his bud got here. He wondered if there was trouble in Argent land, again.

So far over the last two months, Stiles had gone from Ireland, to Paris to Vancouver and finally back to LA, where they would be for the remaining two-and-a-half months of shooting. Most of the hard scenes were thankfully done. The big buck explosions, leaping from buildings, the chases, all wrapped up. It was why he was feeling so drained. This week had seen him in water, trapped under an overturned car, chasing villains through the streets, all while romancing the female lead, who turned out to be the biggest traitor of all. (But shhh, that spoiler was not to be revealed.)

To his surprise, Peter had flown up to Vancouver for his last day there and they’d spent it in bed instead of out playing tourist like a lot of the cast and crew, who’d celebrated that they were actually ahead of schedule and the fact that the director actually gave them a day to enjoy the city.

Peter said he’d had a meeting for a merger he was working on with a multinational, but refused to tell Stiles which one, “because negotiations were still in the really early stages”. He’d claimed that his client had flown back after the meeting and he’d elected to stay on because he was horny and it’d been too long since he’d had Stiles in his bed.

Stiles was skeptical, but didn’t say it. But he’d let it go and enjoyed every second of those 24 hours they’d spent together before parting the following morning – Peter for Boston, Stiles, a little sore, for LA.

The doorbell dragged him from his thoughts and foggy brain. Scott was here.

++++++

“Hey man!” Scott said as soon as he got sight of Stiles.

Stiles engulfed his friend in a full-bodied hug, dragging him into his second apartment. Because of his career, he maintained apartments in LA and Boston. Boston mostly for relaxation; LA almost exclusively for work or his superstar lifestyle.

“What’s up dude?” he grinned, happy to see Scott. It felt like forever since they’d last seen each other. “How are things?”

“I’m good. Business is a little hectic.” Scott was a business consultant, specialising in “reduction strategies”. Stiles jokingly called him the Lay-Off Boss.

“You know, for most people that would not be a thing to boast about.” Stiles laughed, making his way back to the sofa he was vegging out on.

Scott shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a living.”

“And you’re good at it,” Stiles finished. “I’m just ribbing you, dude. It’s good to see you. So what do you want to do? Wanna go out to dinner tonight and then decide what we do tomorrow? I’ve got the next two days free and it’s been a while since you were out here.”

“Whatever, I’m open to anything. It’s just we haven’t seen each other in months, so I was hoping for quiet time. Every time you come up, you spend it with the lawyer and I never get to see you anymore.” Scott looked away almost guiltily.

. . . Anddddd, there it was. He knew there’d been an ulterior motive to this sudden visit. He knew his friend too well. So, was this some kind of ‘Peter intervention’? He thought he’d already laid down to law to his friends about his sex life.

“Ummm, you’ve seen me and spoken to me constantly, in fact even more frequently than my own father, for the last 18 years, Scott. And that hasn’t changed. If you’ll recall, whenever you and Allison decide to be on again, your available schedule becomes decidedly cluttered, as it did shortly after my birthday. I’m not the one with the time or scheduling issues bro, unless I’m filming.” He deliberately kept his voice calm.

“And guess what I’ve been doing for the last five months? Oh, that’s right, filming.” He said, again, steadfastly calm. Because if he began to shout about his friends sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, then their friendship would really be in trouble. And Stiles had more respect for their bro-hood, than about most other things in his life.

“When . . . when’s the last time you spoke to Lyds . . . or Alli . . . or even Kira?” Scott blundered, eyebrows pulling together in a scowl. “When’s the last time you saw any of them? Your friends?”

Stiles sat up straight, because this was suddenly veering into territory that could make him really mad. “Well, Kira was down last week, but she only had a two-hour lay-over on her way to wherever she’s conducting her thesis research these days. Lydia’s been between Toronto and New York for a while on this new project she’s coordinating and we spoke last night, and Alli is my lawyer, so what’s your point, Scott?”

When his friend opened his mouth to respond, Stiles quickly nipped that shit in the bud, because he was fast losing patience. He’d told them to stay out of this. “If you’re going to spout bullshit at me, make sure it’s accurate and coherent bullshit. Don’t jump in here because you have issues with Peter, whom, might I add, that you don’t even know . . .”

Scott’s mouth flew open again, but Stiles ran roughshod right over anything that might have come out, “ . . . because you’ve never tried to know anything about him beyond the fact that from the first time you saw him, you didn’t like him and didn’t trust him . . .” The mouth flew open to defend again, but Stiles gave no quarter, his voice instead rising with his anger, “. . . and still don’t like him or trust him, despite the fact that he’s given you absolutely no reason for either.

“The fact of the matter is, Scott,” he said the name with no little bit of derision, “at the moment, Peter happens to be the one I’m fucking. And I happen to like it. Every. single. moment.of it. And, I will continue to love and enjoy it for as long as it continues and until one of us decides that it no longer works for us. **_For.us._** _Him and me, **us**_ ,” he stressed

“Well how about the fact that none of your friends have met him? And you’ve been seeing him for over a year, Stiles, a year. This was going to be a fling, remember? It isn’t!” Scott shouted.

And silence fell.

The patter of raindrops could be heard smacking into the glass just beyond where they stood. Rivulets of water ran down glass panels that circled the living room of Stiles’ penthouse apartment, presenting an awesome view of Westwood.

“Yes,” Scott lowered his voice, but there was still passion in it. “None of us have met him. You’ve been seeing each other for almost 14 months now, and he hasn’t even deigned to meet your closest friends. What does that say about him and what he thinks of you? I wouldn’t even know him if he hadn’t knocked you off your bike while I watched as you were almost killed,” he blabbered on, almost tripping over his words.

“You do realise you are over-exaggerating, right?”

“Has he even wanted to meet any of us?”

Stiles forehead drew down. “Why should he?”

“Because he’s your boyfriend, Stiles. Call it fucking if you want, but it’s more than that now. When you started it was just going to be a few days. ‘I want him, Scott. I’ll get it out of my system and we’ll never see each other again.’ Remember that? What happened to that? Cause a few days turned into a few month, and well newsflash, it’s been more than a year, and  . . .”

“AND WHAT!!! So fucking what, Scott!? Why is this anyone’s business but mine? Mine and Peter’s?”

Scott gaped like a fish, unable to believe his friend could be so oblivious. “So what? So what!? So when does he really commit to anything with you? You’re the one always travelling back and forth to see him. You’re the one juggling a hectic acting career and visits to Boston to see **_him_**. As far as I can see, you’re making all the sacrifices. When does he put something into this relationship, if you mean so much to him? We’re worried, Stiles. This isn’t healthy.”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. “What you mean is that **_you’re_** worried. **_You_** want me to lay down some kind of ‘or else’ clause with Peter so **_you_** can say I told you so.” Stiles croaked softly, honestly hurt now.

And he hurt not because Scott was right, but because something had just become painfully apparent. It wasn’t that his relationship with Peter was one-sided, in fact, it was far from that. He just hadn’t told his friends about the trip Peter had made to Vancouver; or the dildo he’d sent as a gift, packed in a basket alongside lube, a picture of himself, and a DVD with nothing but the filthiest gay porn Stiles had ever seen, while he was in Ireland. They’d spoken every day while he had been in Paris, Peter in excellent, fluent French, and had even planned a weekend tryst for Peter to fly over, which they’d had to cancel when the director had added a few more reshoots to the schedule at last minute. There’d have been no time for sex, so Stiles had told him it made no sense to come.

In each city, Peter had quietly paid him a visit, at least once. While he was still suspicious of the surprise Vancouver trip – the one meet-up that had not been planned out – Stiles knew that Peter was as committed to their sex-ing as he was.

What hurt was his realisation that it was his relationship with Scott which was often the one-sided deal.

They’d been bros since Stiles was eight years old; Scott, seven-and-a-half and the new kid in town. Scott had made friends easier in his first year there, than Stiles had in his lifetime in Beacon Hills. Stiles had been the weird kid with the sick mother. It was Scott’s friends – Lydia, Danny, Allison – who had then become Stiles’ friends. And when they’d both moved to Boston at 18, at first it was because it was where Scott wanted to go to follow Allison. There they’d added Jordan (Scott’s friend first) and Kira. In fact, Kira was the only one Scott hadn’t befriended first. Sometimes he got the feeling she barely tolerated him for Stiles’ sake.

It was a lucky, or rather, an unlucky chance, in a coffee shop, if you’d believe it, where Stiles had first been made the offer to read for a part, when a famous director, who’d been squirrelled away in a corner, overheard his loud and humorous exchange with the barista and told him he was a natural and just had to read for a part in his upcoming comedy. That small part, led to two more small offers, before his first action flick came along. By the time he was 21, Stiles was becoming a household name, both in rom-coms and increasingly in action movies. People began tossing around phrases like, “one to watch for”, and “sure thing”, and “talented find”.

His first supporting star role in a blockbuster, came at 24 – hella young for someone not raised in or trained in the business. But it had blown everyone away at the box offices, and earned him his first set of awards, and even a nod in the Academy. He’d lost out Best Supporting Actor to Kevin Spacey, but hey, it was fucking Kevin Spacey, a living legend. Absolutely no rancour there!

Instead of following Scott everywhere, his best friend became the one then always at Stiles’ back. But Stiles couldn’t forget their teenaged years of Scott’s on and off relations with Allison and how they’d make plans only for Scott to forget and queue something with Allison instead. Even into their first year of college, when Scott followed Allison across state, and Stiles had followed Scott, following Allison, he’d still been very aware of his third-wheel status.

Stardom had changed some of that, but not a lot. Stiles still tried to make time for his friends, especially Scott, when he wasn’t on again with Allison and could find the time. And even then, he’d spent many a bro-date with his best bud, listening to complaints about the latest argument with Allison; comforting him when Allison began dating someone new, again; being the ear on the other end of the line, when Allison decided, again, that they were not right for each other.

And now, now this. It just wasn’t fair.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, Stiles, and I just know he’s going to hurt you. You don’t see it, can’t see it because he’s like a drug in your system, but we all see it. **_I_** see it! And he’s going to prove his true self sooner or later, Stiles. Mark my words!”

“You mean those same words you’ve wanted me to mark for the last year? Those same words that I’ve had to listen to every time I didn’t make myself available to your every beck and call this past year? That promise that if I’d followed, I probably would have run screaming in the opposite direction because **_you_** said so, and not because there was any evidence?” Stiles said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t need evidence. He’s using you, I know it. His piece on the side for now. Like I know he’s going to hurt you when he tosses you aside for the next young piece of ass.”

“ ** _NO! You don’t know that! Because YOU DON’T KNOW HIM!_** ” Stiles chest ached. He felt his eyes begin to burn. “You don’t.” He turned away, grabbing his jacket from beside the door and blindly shoving his bare feet into kicks.

“Where are you going?” Scott looked startled.

“To get some fucking air.” He closed the door with a decisive click that scared Scott with its deadly echo of finality.

++++++

Peter closed the hotel room door. It’d been a good first day. The discussions were interesting, beyond interesting, and he’d met some new faces and had even been made an offer by Georgetown about guest lecturing a few times a year to their law cohorts. He was honoured. The day couldn’t have gone better.

What was supposed to have been just a presentation, followed by two more days of enjoying the conference as a participant, had turned into him sitting on an illustrious panel tomorrow, and being asked to host a break-out session, alongside one of the university’s highly rated professors the following day. Even two reporters, who’d sat in on his presentation, had had questions for him after. He’d even had to refuse an offer to appear on television tomorrow because of clashes with his new panel engagement, when one reporter asked for a follow up on comments he’d made about new businesses and the challenges he foresaw with mergers in the future.

Peter was buzzing. Laura would be happy because this could only mean more business for Hale & Hale. She’d been making noises about them needing to expand the partnership, to bring on a few more juniors and possibly promote one or two of their current pool to senior management. Peter had refused, just to be contrary and because he knew his niece would expect an argument and be suspicious if he had none to offer. Plus, he liked when their lawyers sought to prove him wrong by working twice as hard. He knew Laura was right though, and they’d discuss it when he got home.

Right now, this buzz needed a little something to take the edge off. He plucked his phone from his pocket as he loosened his tie, got rid of the jacket and began removing the links from his cuffs.

Stiles’ phone rang once, twice, and then several more times. He was getting ready to hang up, glancing at his watch, when a voice said, “Hello.” It sounded like Stiles was hoarse. Peter thought they’d finished all the high action stuff that required shouting and screaming on set. The only thing that should leave his lover hoarse these days was Peter’s dick.

“Should I be jealous that someone else has you screaming yourself hoarse? Someone who isn’t me?” he said with a chuckle, eyes narrowing, as his lips curved upward.

“Hi, Peter.” It was said almost in a whisper and doused Peter’s previous buzz in one.

“What’s wrong? Is it your dad?” He knew Stiles was concerned about some additional tests he’d told Peter his father’s doctor had recommended after his routine physical had come back inconclusive. Stiles had wanted to fly home to Beacon Hills, but his dad had refused saying it was nothing. If Peter wasn’t mistaken, one of the tests was due to be done tomorrow.

“No, dad’s ok. The tests won’t begin until tomorrow.”

“So why does it sound like you’ve lost your best friend?” Peter was merely curious, he dared not call it worry. When there was a long pause on the other end, he said with a little alarm, “Stiles!?”

“I had a fight with Scott, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.” It sounded like Stiles swallowed on the other end before taking a breath and swiftly changing the subject. “So how’d today go? Did you blow them away with your brilliance?”

Peter frowned, tugged his shirt off, tossing it at the corner of the sofa before he plopped his butt down. He could guess what Scott and Stiles had fought about. He’d known it was coming and had been coming for a while. For reasons that still totally baffled him, Scott hated him. Absolutely hated him.

It wasn’t in anything he said, because they’d never actually really had a real conversation, except if the man was there to answer the phone when he called for Stiles and was met with barely concealed scorn. It still remained with him, the look in Scott’s eyes that first day when Stiles had practically attacked him in the bathroom and it had resulted in a mutual jerk-off session. They’d left the room to run, literally right into Scott just about to push his way through the door. One look at Stiles’ blissed-out expression, Peter’s disarrayed hair and both their swollen lips and Scott had been clenching his teeth and shooting Peter looks of hatred that startled, even as it confounded him.

Sure, he wasn’t a particularly likeable chap, he’d admit. And he was far from everyone’s cup of tea, but he didn’t know Scott from Adam; had had no dealings with the young man, and had, in fact, not even exchanged words with him at that point. But Stiles had went red in the face, and it was the second time that Peter had been forced to wonder if there was more between them than Stiles had let on. The look he saw in Scott’s eyes didn’t make sense for someone who was a mere friend.

He knew the only thing that could leave Stiles in this state now was a fight about him. So instead of pressing for details like the lawyer in him wanted to; instead of calling Scott up and putting him on blast, Peter did the only thing he could – gave Stiles something else to think about.

In minutes, Stiles was lifting out of his funk and getting excited about Peter’s offer to guest lecture at Georgetown. When the younger man laughed less than five minutes later, Peter breathed easier.

He still wanted five minutes alone with Scott McCall though. He was sure when he was finished, the consultant would rue the day he’d ever heard the name Peter Hale – even more than he probably already did. Peter hid the anger the thought brought forth in him. Not much could hurt Stiles like this.

He could no longer ignore it. He’d have to do something about this McCall boy.

++++++

Stiles spent the night in a hotel.

 ** _Amazing_** , he scoffed at himself. A perfectly comfortable and beautifully furnished penthouse – just ask Lydia, it was her handy work – and he was sleeping in an anonymous hotel room to avoid his best friend.

He tossed again and punched the pillows. The hurt had settled in, it wasn’t going anywhere, but the anger was returning, and Stiles had no idea what to do with either.

He picked up the phone and called Peter. It took a little while before the lawyer answered. It was just after 11 p.m. “I can’t sleep.”

“Try,” Peter said, rolling up the car window.

Stiles frowned having heard what sounded like wind through the phone. “Where are you? You don’t sound like you’re in the hotel.”

“I couldn’t sleep either. Decided to go for a ride,” Peter grimaced as he lied to Stiles for the first time ever.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles felt bad. “And here I was calling hoping for some phone sex to get me to sleep.”

“And who says I can’t help?”

The actor grinned as his dick twitched and he let his right hand fall beneath the covers.

++++++

Peter sat in the rental he’d hired at the airport for a moment to gather himself. He needed this hard-on to go away before he got out of the vehicle to enter the building. It took another seven minutes before he could move. Stiles was going to be the death of him. The man was too sexy by far. Not that Peter was complaining.

A short while later he rang the bell near the penthouse door. It was quickly wrenched open by a tussle-haired, worried-looking Scott McCall. His face fell when he saw whom it was.

“I think it’s time you and I had a talk,” Peter said, shoving pass the startled man and into Stiles’ place.

“What the fuck do you want? Stiles isn’t here.”

“I know. Because instead of lying in his bed jerking off to my voice in the comfort of his home,” Scott’s face wrinkled at the imagery, “he’s in a hotel downtown worrying that he might lose his best friend, because his best friend happens to be a pious, thoughtless asshole with no respect for the main person who’s given up more for him than anyone else, except maybe his own mother.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Peter Hale and fuck you! Stiles and I were fine until you came along. He doesn’t think so, but I know you’ll hurt him. You’re an arrogant, selfish, son-of-a-bitch and I know it, but he can’t see it. I tried telling him he’s nothing but your newest boy toy. Don’t think I don’t know about your history. But don’t you worry, I’m going to protect him from you, mark my words, Hale.”

Peter just looked at him. The dark-haired lad stood there, panting with spittle flecked lips and an anger in his eyes that just didn’t belong. It made no sense. But suddenly the lawyer had clarity.

His brow straightened as his eyes widened. “No,” he said quietly, almost as quietly as Stiles had spoken to this same friend more than four hours ago. “The only thing you’re going to do is drive your best friend away. You’ll lose him and it won’t be because of anything I did. From the moment you laid eyes on me and realised Stiles was interested, you decided you were going to hate me no matter what I did. Whether it was justified, proven or false, you were determined that I was the devil and nothing else would do.

“The fact is, I’m not the one hurting Stiles. I’m not that one that drove him from his own home, out in the rain with tears on his face.”

Scott sneered at him, but his heart gave an uncomfortable lurch at the words. “And you were celebrating, weren’t you? For driving a wedge between us!”

Peter shook his head sadly. “Do you know when I called Stiles tonight and he told me you two had fought, all I wanted to do was hunt you down? He refused to tell me what you’d fought about but I knew. I knew that apart from disparaging his mother, the only thing you could hurt him with, was me . . . Because from the time you laid eyes on me, you’ve been jealous.”

Scott sputtered. “Jealous, of you?” He felt uncomfortable in his skin. Months ago he’d purposely not invited the lawyer to Stiles’ birthday. He didn’t know which way the others would swing. Peter Hale could be charming, when he wanted to be. “I don’t know what you think you know, but Stiles has been my best friend since we were kids and . . .”

“And you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

The bombshell dropped on silence.

For moments, nothing could be heard but Scott’s ragged breathing. “He’s . . . he’s my best friend.” He swallowed, throat tight. “My best . . .”

“That’s what I thought.” Peter interrupted. He exhaled audibly. “Look, what Stiles and I have is an awesome sexual relationship. Is it complicated? Hell yes. Is it what we expected when we started this? Absolutely not. Will it continue or end tomorrow? I don’t know. But what I do know is I’m not giving him up until he cries Uncle.”

Scott’s right hand balled into a fist at his side as Peter continued. “The way I see it you have a couple options. You can keep going as you’ve done. The result of which is that you’ll lose him, maybe forever, maybe not. But you’ll lose his trust – your ‘best friend’, your ‘brother’, and I don’t know he has many friends he values like you. You’ve been there with him through thick and thin and he needed someone like that. The world he lives in, makes his living in, it’s hard and cold and most of it is pretentious as anything. You and your troupe of friends, most of whom I know would probably choose you over him in a heartbeat, all of you keep him grounded in different ways.

“That’s perhaps the only thing I respect you for. But you keep digging at him the way you have been and I won’t care that you’ve been tight since he was eight. I won’t care that you were the only one he could talk to after his mother’s death. I won’t care that you’re the only brother he’s ever had, because I won’t sit back and let you keep hurting him.

“So you can decide if you want to come clean about how you feel and let him choose – but I should warn you, I don’t plan to play fair if you do. I won’t give him up, and I promise you won’t win against me.

“Or, you can apologise to your friend and mend what you almost shattered tonight because you thought it would drive a wedge between us. You counted on Stiles being too afraid to lose you. Well this is me calling your bluff.”

Peter looked him square in the eye. “I don’t care what you think of me. Whether we ever become friends or just polite acquaintances – that’s inconsequential to me. But it means the world to Stiles. He’s not eight anymore, Scott. Maybe it’s time for you to grow up too.”

Having said his piece, Peter turned, opened the door and closed it softly behind him. For the second time that night, the sound echoed like a gunshot to Scott’s heart.

Peter considered driving to Stiles’ hotel, but his lover would know immediately why he was in town. So he headed back to the airport and booked the next return flight to Napa. Maybe if he was lucky he could catch enough hours to be half lucid tomorrow. It wouldn’t do to embarrass himself before the Attorney General who was on the panel with him

++++++

Stiles stuck his key in the lock and breathed deeply before turning. He didn’t want to argue. But if Scott forced him, he’d have to ask his friend to leave. It was the last thing he wanted.

He pushed the door. Scott sprang to his feet, face tired and anxious, all but wringing his hands together. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly, unsure of the reception.

“Hey,” Scott said on a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be back or if . . .” He tried to feel him out, to gauge if Peter had gone to him after.

Stiles said nothing, just watched him, but Scott could see the pain in his best friend’s eyes. “Have you had breakfast? I could make eggs and bacon. With toast points.”

Stiles’ eyes softened fractionally. “Sure.” He shed his jacket and shoes and stepped further into his apartment. Scott turned and headed for the stove.

Stiles stood in the kitchen, leaning against the cupboards, butt resting barely at the edge. “What’s brought this on? You were ready to skin me alive over Peter last night.”

So Peter hadn’t tattled then? “Yea, well, I had no right to do that. It’s your life, Stiles and if you want to spend it . . . with Peter, I’m going to respect that.” His heart called him a liar.

Stiles’ brows came together in confusion. “Really? That’s quite the 180.”

Scott took eggs from the fridge and turned toward the stove, lighting a burner under a pan. “Yea, well, I love you, Stiles.”

Stiles’ face behind his back did something complex, as his heart thumped for a second. They’d said this to each other countless times before, but something about Scott’s tone left him edgy, weary.

But his friend didn’t pause, “And I realised regardless of what I think, you’re going to make your own decision and I don’t have the right to interfere. You want Peter, and I’d rather have you in my life than not. So I’m going to butt out. But don’t ask me not to keep watch in case he hurts you.” When Stiles went to speak, Scott rushed to continue. “I’m not saying he will, just that I’m here if he ever does.”

Stiles swallowed and tried to block out what his ears were obviously telling him. He’d known. He’d tried to ignore it, to temper it, but he’d known. At one point when they were maybe 12 or 13, he’d been convinced he was in love with Scott; but Scott was his friend, his amigo, his best bro, his die hard.

He’d pushed those feelings away and ignored when they’d surfaced again after high school. I mean really, who follows their best friend across state, when said best friend is chasing a girl? Over time he’d let it go. And then he’d met Peter and nothing had been the same – for any of them.

But that was something he didn’t need to and wouldn’t think about. It was still just sex. Only sex. He refused to acknowledge the lie.

He’d accept this olive branch for what it was and try to rebuild their friendship. They had a day of shenanigans ahead of them. So Stiles grinned and moved to get some bacon. Toast points. He loved toast points.

++++++

Peter walked into the hotel lobby with a spring in his step. Another good day.

He’d exchanged texts with Stiles throughout the day and was glad to hear he and Scott were patching their friendship back together. He guessed Scott took what he said to heart. He’d keep watch though; he didn’t trust him not to try something. There would probably never be any love lost between him and Stiles’ best friend, but he wouldn’t be the one to blow things wide open.

Scott might have an advantage, but he could never be as devious as Peter was when he wanted something. And Stiles was it. If it was breaking their agreement, no one needed to know. He certainly wouldn’t tell.

He was just removing his cufflinks when someone knocked on his hotel door. Peter frowned. Peeking through the peephole, he saw a bottle of champagne held up to view. He removed the chain and pulled the door open, grinning in surprise at the sexy, compact actor, in cap, hood and disguise just beyond the threshold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, teeth showing.

“I think a celebration is in order.”

“Really?” Peter tried not to let the grin waver. Was this about Scott or something else?

“Ummhmm. You were on the news about this conference. Plus,” Stiles lowered his voice as Peter’s eyes raked over him salaciously, just the way he liked, “did I mention I have nothing on under these jeans?”

Peter reached out and grabbed him by his T-shirt, dragging him into the room and slamming the door. If his immediate neighbours heard a squeal that moments later turned into rather loud moans and cackles of laughter into the night, they must not have felt like reporting it to front desk.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it. Guess it's no longer strictly in the realm of "just sex", though neither one will admit it. Let me know your thoughts. And thanks anyway for reading if you've nothing to say.


End file.
